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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121847">Everything Will Have its Place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselace/pseuds/uselace'>uselace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Women's Soccer RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christen needs a hug, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Painting, Slow(ish) Burn, especially tobin, small-town gays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:22:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselace/pseuds/uselace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On one of the worst nights of her life, the universe presents Christen with a stranger named Tobin. How can Christen start to pick up the pieces of her life? </p>
<p>How will Tobin be a part of that?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tobin Heath/Christen Press</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>272</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm back! summaries stress me out so much so please just give this a chance lmao. fair warning though at least half of it was written past midnight. updates (to both my ongoing stories) will probably be extremely slow and unpredictable because long story short i'm currently in recovery for an ed so that is... time-consuming and also very tiring. but i'm still kicking and still writing.</p>
<p>stay safe out there and if you're in the us vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote!!!!!!! VOTE!!!!!!!!!</p>
<p>hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nothing quite feels real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her night wasn’t supposed to go this way. Christen doesn’t even know where she is, isn’t sure what time it is anymore. All she knows is that the sun has set and she just fucked everything up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In her defense, two years is too quick for a proposal. Or at least, it is for Christen, who plans everything out meticulously and didn’t make room for marriage in her life plan for at least three more years. And Emily knew that. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have known that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she did it anyway. And Christen doesn’t quite know where to go from here. Because where do you go when your first truly long-term relationship ends in a failed proposal?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where do you go when everything falls apart?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answer, Christen finds, is a random park in a town she never knew existed before tonight. Emily had driven them out to a small restaurant, but Christen ran after she said no and didn’t stop until somehow she ended up here. She shivers slightly as she takes in her surroundings, wishing that she had some kind of jacket to keep her warm in the night air. Nothing about the park jumps out to her, so she sets her sights on the nearest bench and texts Tyler to pick her up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just before the bench, though, something catches her eye. It’s a movement about 20 feet away, someone walking by a dilapidated restroom building. A silhouette in all black.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Part of Christen is scared, but part of her is also intrigued; after the night she’s had the intrigued side quickly wins over. It’s hard to be scared when it feels like nothing matters anymore.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After she stares a little longer, though, Christen squints enough to realize that they’re not walking. Instead the figure is moving their arm along the wall in a smooth motion, and before she can stop herself Christen starts crossing the short distance to the building. It’s like she’s being drawn to whatever they’re doing, until she finally gets close enough to see the spray-paint making its way onto the wall. The paint is bright, colors standing out against the dark, and Christen stands entranced. She’s feeling… well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but she’ll take that over nothing any day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is why she curses herself when she blurts out “Hi,” and the painter startles and immediately stops. They’re slow to turn around (and Christen can’t blame them), but a small smile makes its way onto the figure’s face when they realize she’s not a cop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” Both of them stand there for a moment before the figure finally lowers their hood to reveal one of the most beautiful women Christen has ever seen. “Um, you’re not gonna call the police, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Christen replies quietly. “Actually, this is kind of weird, but I was wondering if I could just watch for a while?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other woman takes a second, looking Christen up and down, before replying with a simple nod. “I’m Tobin, by the way,” she says as she turns back to the wall, already shaking another can in preparation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christen. Nice to meet you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s easy to get lost in the quiet sounds of paint going on brick, Christen finds. Tobin is mesmerizing, working quickly and adding so many colors that it seems like they’ll spill off the wall and into the night. Occasionally Tobin will mutter to herself, but other than that both women are content to sit in the near-silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen thinks that given the chance, she would have sat in that park all night just watching the artist work. But eventually Tyler pulls into the nearby parking lot and she knows that unless she wants to get a serious chewing-out, she has to leave. She bids a quiet goodnight to Tobin that goes unreturned, until a question catches her off-guard as she walks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why were you out here in the middle of the night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mouth answers before her mind can catch up, and Christen finds herself telling this stranger the (unfortunate) truth. “My girlfriend proposed to me and I said no, then I ran away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin just stares blankly, until she ducks her head and sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. “Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting that. Sorry to hear it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Christen thinks, until she decides against saying it out loud because nothing is really fine right now. Instead she challenges Tobin, repeating the question she was previously asked. “Why are you out here in the middle of the night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to bring a little more light into the world,” Tobin says with a nod towards the nearly-finished mural on the wall. “This park was hella boring, anyway. By the way—” she cuts herself off, looking down at the ground and scuffing at a crack with her sneakers. “Well, I don’t want to be weird or anything, but I hope you know that your ex will be seriously missing out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen has no idea how to respond to that, so she mutters an awkward “thanks” and tries to stop the blush she can feel rising. For just a minute, they both stare at each other again, waiting to see who will break first. It ends up being Christen, after Tyler honks obnoxiously. All it takes is a wave for Tobin to vanish back into the night as Tyler’s car pulls away to take her home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All it takes is one word for the trajectory of her life to change, Christen thinks as she watches trees rush by in the dark. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where does she go from here?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the absolute chaos of the night she meets Tobin, the next few weeks feel fairly tame. Christen spends an hour that night in her and Emily’s apartment, packing all her essentials into boxes so that she can crash at Tyler’s place for a while. On multiple occasions she talks to a sad, angry Emily on the phone and then cries watching Netflix (then feels more pathetic, because she was in the middle of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hill House</span>
  </em>
  <span> but now she can’t even finish it without Theo reminding her of Emily). Otherwise, though, she occupies herself by keeping busy with work, always in her classroom or on Tyler’s couch grading papers and planning lessons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one thing Christen won’t admit to herself is that she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>lonely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And she feels bad, but the phone calls and moving out and trying to convince Emily to let her pay for the ring aren’t the worst parts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, the worst part is the aching hole in her chest that surfaces every night without fail. Because Christen is just now realizing that she doesn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> anyone. At least, not in a way that can stop her from feeling so fucking lonely as she watches life go by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She has her students, of course, who she loves with her entire heart, but maintaining any relationship with them outside the classroom would be grounds to get her fired. And there’s Tyler, but as much as Christen hates herself for it, Tyler has a tendency to make the loneliness worse. While Tyler spends nights out or invites friends over, Christen remains the shut-in failure of a sister who’s picking up the pieces of her life. No way in hell will Christen call Emily, and that leaves her with no one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s strange, Christen thinks, that she’s spent most of her life in the same place and yet still doesn’t have any real friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why every time she drives under a bridge or past an old building she keeps her eyes out for any graffiti. It quickly becomes a habit, albeit a nonsensical one. She doesn’t even have a good idea of what Tobin’s style is, and there’s no plausible way to track down the artist anyway. That doesn’t stop her from looking, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she does finally find a trace of the artist, it’s completely unexpected. And, quite literally, right under her nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen spends her car ride that day mentally preparing herself for the chaos that Fridays always bring. For once she forgets to scan her surroundings for paint, too caught up in thinking about Tim’s detention and the game they were supposed to play today and her TA that called in sick at the last minute. It’s pure chance, really, that she even notices that anything is different at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she nearly drops all her belongings when she finally does notice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because right there, on the wall of the only middle school in town, are colors and words and art that must have been sprayed on at night. And in the corner, a simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>TPH</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing she does when she gets to her classroom is open Facebook. Thank God for Tobin being an extremely unusual name—it only takes her a second to search it, and the very first result is Tobin Powell Heath. TPH. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She immediately scrolls through Tobin’s page, enamored by all the landscape photographs and pictures of painting. There are only a couple photos scattered throughout the page of Tobin herself, but with every picture she sees Christen finds that she wants to know more. If she didn’t have a job, Christen could probably spend an absurd amount of time stalking this woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, both because of time constraints and the fact that stalking is extremely creepy, Christen remembers why she was on Facebook in the first place and opens a window to message Tobin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Christen Press: Were you the one who tagged the middle school?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tobin Heath: ...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her kids have just made their way to lunch when a knock sounds at the classroom door. “Ms. Press?” Someone asks, except the voice is both familiar and unfamiliar all at once. She can’t put her finger on where she’s heard that raspy tone before—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until she turns around and is greeted by Tobin. The other woman looks completely different today from the last time they met, decked out in a tie-dye t-shirt and white ripped jeans (it’s a world away from what she was wearing that night, but also seems more </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tobin</span>
  </em>
  <span> in an inexplicable way). She’s holding a can of paint and two cups from the nearest coffee shop, which she raises as a greeting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, um, what exactly are you doing here?” They’re back to their old routine, just staring at each other, except this time Tobin is the one shifting uncomfortably as she stands in the doorway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the thing is, I couldn’t really tell if you were mad or not in your message,” Tobin says with a strange expression on her face. “So I thought I might as well stop by and try to make it up to you... and only now am I realizing how stupid I probably sound.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A laugh escapes Christen before she can stop it, but any embarrassment is well worth it as soon as Tobin smiles again. “Honestly, I like that wall a lot better with the graffiti on it. But tell you what, why don’t you stick around while the kids are at lunch and we can have this coffee?” She surprises herself with how forward she’s being, but if Tobin is at all surprised she does a good job of hiding it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll never say no to coffee,” Tobin laughs, and Christen waves her over to one of the neater desks so they can sit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Done any more painting since last week?” Christen asks teasingly as they settle into the slightly-too-small chairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, unfortunately.” There’s a small break as they both drink from their cups, and even though they just met the silence is comfortable. “But what about you? Tell me about this proposal you denied.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if it was any other person, Christen would have told them off for being too nosy. But it’s Tobin, who’s little more than a stranger yet seems to understand Christen more than most people. So she launches into the story, and right as she gets to the part where she’s running out of the restaurant, Christen realizes—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the ache in her chest is gone. For the first time in weeks, she doesn’t feel lonely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>definitely don't expect future chapters to come this quickly, but i had a shit week and needed an escape lol. as always i hope you like it and feel free to comment because i have an unhealthy need for validation. and if you're in the us, for the love of god, VOTE.</p>
<p>stay safe, and enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Emily and I were together for two years,” Christen starts after taking a deep breath. “We met after I got out of grad school. We got along really well right away. Then she got a job here, and I was planning on moving back, so we just… moved in together right away to save money. A couple months after moving back she asked me out, and I said yes. But the proposal—it was too much. I got scared.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She finally raises her head to meet Tobin’s eyes, surprised to see a kind of sympathy glittering in them. “Why, though? Why were you scared?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin’s gaze is so intense that Christen has to look away while she thinks about how to answer the question. “...I think part of me had known for a while that it wasn’t working. It just felt like I had been staying there because it was what everyone expected,” Christen says quietly. Upon seeing a confused look on Tobin’s face, though, she realizes she has to explain further. “I mean, I love teaching, but I went to grad school because it was expected. I moved back here because it was expected. I said yes to Emily in the first place because most of my family already thought we were dating, and I really did like her, but two years is just… too long, to keep something like that going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And when she proposed, I knew that she expected me to say yes. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t force myself to marry her knowing there would always be someone better out there.” As cliché as it is, she immediately feels lighter when she finishes her little monologue. Christen had never actually said any of it out loud, and she hadn’t realized until now how much the weight of it all was bearing down on her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Tobin mutters, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “Is it really that bad here?” she asks, and Christen isn’t sure if she’s imagining the vulnerability in Tobin’s eyes or not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Christen replies quickly, watching as Tobin’s face changes back into a smile. “Most of my family is here, and I could never be too far away from them. And I seriously love my job, in case you couldn’t tell.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No friends, huh?” Tobin is clearly joking, but Christen immediately feels her face falling, and the other woman is quick to backtrack. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s okay if you don’t have friends, you know. I didn’t even have friends until like, two years after I moved here, and I only know them ‘cus of work. Who needs friends anyway? That’s what dogs are for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen just sits, watching amusedly as Tobin continues her nervous ramble. “It’s fine,” she eventually cuts the other woman off. “Just—losing Emily made me realize that I didn’t really have anyone else here.” Somehow, saying that out loud just makes it more pathetic, and Christen is seriously tempted to start banging her head on the table. Anything to get out of this conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead her eyes remain locked with Tobin’s as the other woman examines her. It’s amazing how quickly Tobin’s demeanor can change, Christen thinks. She goes from happy-go-lucky to serious in a second, and it’s part scary and part attractive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Christen kicks herself as soon as she thinks that—people who just got out of a two-year relationship aren’t supposed to immediately find a random stranger attractive.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” Tobin is just about to say something when the shrill tone of the school bell cuts her off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” Christen stands up quickly, then curses again as she bangs her kneecap on the table. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time,” she apologizes, still holding her aching knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s totally fine,” Tobin laughs, and immediately the pain in Christen’s knee fades away as she focuses on Tobin’s smile. “I should get going anyway, my lunch break is almost over too.” They both make their way to the classroom door, Tobin hauling the can of paint along with her. “I guess I’ll see you around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess you will,” Christen says with a smile as Tobin walks out the door, surrounded by a throng of children. “Hey, Tobin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” She turns around as she says it, and a large part of Christen doesn’t want to let her leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be a stranger. Seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin stands there for a moment longer, smiling like she knows what Christen is thinking. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replies after a beat before turning back around and finally making her way out of the building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even as her class starts to file in, taking their seats, Christen’s mind is still on Tobin. Because she’s in a good mood, and because she doesn’t have a solid lesson plan due to the other woman’s visit, for once Christen throws caution to the wind and announces that they’re having class outside. She’s finally brought back to the present when her kids cheer, and she forces herself to focus (it doesn’t work). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drifts through the rest of the school day in a daze, always thinking about the strange woman who walked into her life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know a Tobin Heath?” Christen asks the second Tyler walks into her apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, nevermind.” Tyler just looks at her suspiciously, shrugging before she leaves Christen alone in the living room again. Christen slumps back onto the couch, wondering how Tobin knows so much about her and she still doesn’t know anything about the other woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Tyler bustles around the apartment, getting ready to go out with friends like she does every Friday night, Christen resigns herself to another weekend of grading papers. She doesn’t really mind the actual work (in fact, the routine of it helps her relax), but sometimes it’s still hard for her to be alone in this unfamiliar apartment, without the presence of someone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is why, when Tyler leaves, Christen immediately burrows into a blanket and turns on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Schitt’s Creek </span>
  </em>
  <span>loud enough that the neighbors can probably hear it. It’s become her Friday night routine to wallow on the couch, trying to drown out the loneliness. Because she loves Tyler, but she still feels like a ghost in her sister’s life, just hovering around the guest bedroom until she gets her shit together. And though they haven’t talked yet about why Christen ended things with Emily, she knows it’s coming. She knows that she won’t be able to explain any of it to Tyler without sounding like a massive dick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, on this particular night, Christen managed to forget about a key aspect of her wallowing—that she was just about to finish season 5 of her favorite show. Which meant that on the screen, Patrick was getting down on one knee. And David, unlike Christen, said yes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can’t do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Christen weren’t panicking, she would be impressed at how quickly she leaps over the back of the couch, racing to grab her keys next to the apartment door. It doesn’t even occur to her to turn off the tv, which instead stays blaring in the background as she jams a pair of shoes on. Just as David starts crying, she flings the door open and gets the hell out. She doesn’t stop until she hits the cool night air, and finally she can breathe a little easier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(The scene stays in the back of her mind, though, even as she walks in the dark. She could’ve had that, if she just fucking said </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After about ten minutes of walking aimlessly, Christen’s hands have finally stopped shaking. The night air is cold, nipping at her ears and making goosebumps erupt along her bare arms. She barely notices, though, too caught up in her head. Too caught up in everything she could have had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Christen slows her pace when she realizes that her legs carried her to a nearby park on autopilot. She sinks down on the closest bench and tries to resist the urge to put her head in her hands. Instead she looks around, realizing that her surroundings seem almost eerily similar to the fateful night she met Tobin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey stranger." Christen whips around, preparing to turn around and deck whatever creepy guy is hitting on her, but after a minute of squinting at a dark shape it registers that she knows this voice. "Christen?" Tobin asks, a hint of worry in her voice. “You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm fine," Christen replies stiffly after a moment. "Sorry, I couldn’t see you in the dark.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure? You don’t seem—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tobin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Christen grits her teeth, her teacher voice slipping out. Tobin looks taken aback, withdrawing a hand that she was about to put on Christen’s shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole.” She’s trying her best to hold back tears, but at this rate she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll last. “I just—I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Tobin replies quietly. “Do you mind if I sit?” Christen shakes her head in response, scooting over on the bench and patting the spot beside her. Tobin takes the invitation, sitting so close that their knees are touching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sit like that for a while (exactly how long, Christen has no idea; she’s only just now realized that she left her phone on the couch in Tyler’s apartment). Their silence is a little more tense than the last time they met, but Christen is just glad to have the company. She finds that she can finally catch her breath again, and her mind has started to slow down. “Why are you out here?” Tobin seems surprised when she finally breaks the silence, and takes a minute to answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was just scouting out parks and stuff for another project.” The silence settles back in, but this time Christen is filled with dread as she waits for Tobin to ask her the same question. Instead, she’s pleasantly surprised when Tobin jumps up in a fluid motion and offers a hand. “I have an idea,” she grins as she pulls Christen off of the bench. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin keeps pulling on her hand, and Christen just follows dumbly behind her until they reach a maintenance shed. After a moment of staring at the shed, Tobin somehow manages to scamper up one of the walls until she’s on the roof. “What the fuck?!” The other woman just grins down at her, legs kicking in the air like a kid on a swing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, it’s easier than it looks. I’ll help you up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen keeps gaping up at her, trying to process what she just saw and find words for it. (Some that immediately come to mind are </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve never seen someone look so smug and so goddamn attractive</span>
  </em>
  <span>.) After another minute of opening and closing her mouth, Tobin finally takes pity on her and reaches down. “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you. See that rock there? Use it to launch yourself up onto the windowsill. And there’s a nick in the wood there that you can jam your foot in. Go slow, at first, and you’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Christen finally whispers. Her legs feel a lot like Jell-O as she approaches the rock that Tobin pointed out, but she manages not to fall. Slowly, with Tobin’s guidance, she makes her way up the wall and next to the other woman on the roof. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Even though she’s a little bit out of breath and desperately trying not to think about how they’ll get down, Christen can’t help but return Tobin’s grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Tobin leans back on the roof, cradling the back of her head in her hands as she looks up at the stars. Christen follows, although she still can’t quite believe that she’s up there at all. “I like being closer to the stars,” Tobin murmurs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like being close to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Christen thinks before she can stop herself. “See that?” Tobin points up at a blob of stars that look vaguely like a constellation. “That’s Orion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Tobin laughs with a shit-eating grin. “I have no idea where any of the constellations are. I just make it up to impress girls.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen’s brain must officially be short-circuiting, because Tobin didn’t just say that. There’s no way. “Do you impress a lot of girls?” Fuck. She has no idea what she wanted to say, but that definitely wasn’t it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Tobin is surprised by the question, she doesn’t show it. “Nah,” she replies easily. “Work keeps me busy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Christen says, trying her hardest to sound nonchalant and failing miserably when the word comes out as a squeak. “Where do you work, if you don’t mind me asking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even in the dark, Christen can sense that Tobin has turned to look at her. Suddenly there are shivers running down her spine, although for once they have nothing to do with the cold. “I work up at the hospital, in the mental health wing.” Christen knows which hospital she’s talking about—Freeman Community Hospital is the only one even remotely close to their town, after all—but Tobin seems to be able to sense that Christen wants to ask more questions, because she’s quick to cut her off. “We can talk about that later. I have to keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my secrets, after all.” Christen certainly understands the sentiment, so she leaves the other woman be, returning to staring up at the stars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lie there like that for at least another hour, until Christen starts noticeably shaking from the cold. She barely notices though, too caught up in the stars and Tobin and </span>
  <em>
    <span>later</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later can’t come soon enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Class</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the last couple weeks have been pretty chaotic, but i'm back! i don't have much to say except i hope everyone is doing well and staying safe now that we get to keep our rights 😎. all typos are my own.</p><p>as always, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Tobin Heath: Are you doing anything Saturday at 11 am?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Christen Press: Just making my lesson plans, why?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tobin Heath: Dope, meet me at the church by the hospital.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tobin Heath: If you want to, I mean.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Christen Press: I’ll be there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If Mondays were torturous before, this particular Monday is absolute hell. Because somehow, Christen is already counting down the days until she can meet Tobin again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t stop thinking about what happened on Friday, about Tobin’s smile and the glimmer in her eyes as she looked up at the stars. She also can’t stop wondering where the hell Tobin came from, and how the other woman always seems to show up just when Christen needs her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the week goes by in a blur (although, Christen knows that she couldn’t describe anything that happened, her mind throughout the week too preoccupied with Tobin). And finally, it’s Saturday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>/// </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s safe to say that Christen has no idea what to expect when she steps into the church down the street from Freeman Community. The church is nearly deserted except for faint sounds of life coming from a back room, which Christen follows until she reaches what looks like a rec room. In the middle of the room is Tobin, setting up a canvas on an easel. She’s surrounded by a semicircle of chairs, almost all of them filled with people setting up their own easels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately Christen is struck by how quiet the room is. Aside from the scratching of chairs on the floor and rustling of clothes, it’s nearly silent. Christen tentatively clears her throat, prepared for heads to turn, but only Tobin seems to hear her. “You made it!” She’s smiling widely, and Christen feels her heart jump into her throat at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah. Should I sit, or…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, grab a seat.” Tobin leads her to an empty chair, then turns to retrieve a canvas from a pile by the door. “Paints are on the table over there,” she says, pointing to a long table against the wall, “and if you want any snacks or anything feel free to get up and grab some. I’ll start in a couple minutes, so sit tight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin returns to her easel, leaving Christen on her own to retrieve paints. She doesn’t know what colors she should get, so she takes a little bit of everything just to be safe. As she makes her way back to her seat, she tries to think of the best way to ask Tobin what the hell she’s doing here. The question dies in her throat as soon as she looks up and sees Tobin jumping up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone else raises their heads as they gradually notice the motion in the center of the room. Once Tobin has everyone’s attention, she grins again and starts talking. “Alright everyone, welcome to class! Today we’ll be painting a night sky, so I hope y’all are prepared.” Christen tunes out after the first couple sentences, focusing instead on the way Tobin’s hands are moving as she speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finally, it clicks—Tobin is signing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen sits and watches in awe as Tobin continues to speak, signing fluidly along with her words. The motions seem so natural that Christen has to wonder how she didn’t somehow notice earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s start!” Christen snaps back to attention when Tobin finishes talking and walks past her canvas to a blackboard. The chalk is squeaky as she writes out steps, then returns to the center of the room. She holds up her palette, making it obvious which color she’s using, before signing something and beginning to cover the canvas in a deep blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin has extremely talented hands, Christen realizes (and immediately blushes dark red when she realizes what that sounds like). She transforms the canvas with what seems like only a few strokes, taking breaks periodically to walk around and sign with the others like she’s been doing it forever. It’s hard for Christen to focus on mimicking Tobin’s painting when she keeps fixating on the other woman’s smile, bright and ever-present as she paints and talks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time people start packing up their canvasses and leaving, Christen thinks that she has a pretty decent painting of a sky. It’s nothing compared to Tobin’s, but then again Tobin is incomparable. “How was it?” Tobin asks when she finds her way back to Christen after helping everybody else pack up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was great,” Christen grins. “Your painting is incredible, by the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other woman ducks her head bashfully, rubbing at her neck as she avoids Christen’s stare. “Lots of practice. Yours is pretty good, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it’s Christen’s turn to blush at the praise. “Thanks. Um, where did you learn to sign like that, if you don’t mind me asking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My childhood best friend is deaf, so I learned pretty early on to communicate with her.” Tobin’s gaze is intense, making Christen feel strangely exposed. “Eventually I realized I could use it to help people, and I set up this group about four years ago.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody has ever been more attractive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Christen thinks as she holds eye contact with the other woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Tobin is the first to break when she smiles widely and turns to grab Christen’s painting. “Would you mind if I kept this and hung it in here? The back wall is where I keep the best pieces, and everyone gets to display at least one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Christen says without missing a beat. She helps carry Tobin’s bag over to the wall, and once the painting is safely leaning against the wall they both make their way to the door. “Well, thanks for inviting me.” They both shift a bit awkwardly, each trying to read the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any time. I’ll see you around?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin just smiles for a moment, leaning against the doorframe in a way that’s driving Christen a little bit crazy. “I have to go to another thing, but I’ll shoot you a message sometime, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Christen replies softly, and once Tobin hears the answer she gives a small wave and starts walking down the hall. Christen is left standing there, trying to process everything that’s happened (along with all the tiny tidbits of information she knows about Tobin now).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What has she gotten herself into?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin shivers in the cold as she pulls up FaceTime on her phone. She doesn’t remember much about her childhood, but she always remembers her promise to call Lauren once a week. “Hey,” Tobin signs once her friend answers the call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look cold,” Lauren replies. “Where are you headed to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AA. I thought I would call you on the way.” She nearly crashes into a stranger as she tries to walk and sign at the same time, luckily managing to juggle her phone before it can fall. She’s already broken one too many phones. “But how are you? Looks like you’ve been busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lauren nods, sighing so loudly that Tobin can hear it even though her volume is nearly on mute. “One of my clients is being a bitch, he keeps asking me to redo miniscule things on the website. I’m close to giving up,” she signs with an exasperated expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makes me glad I’m not in customer service,” Tobin laughs, and the other woman cracks a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s work for you, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know. We haven’t gotten a lot of new patients, which is good, but Pinoe is getting bored quickly and I’m worried she’s gonna start stealing puddings again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss them,” Lauren pouts. “You guys need to come out here sometime and see the new house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guilt-trip works, and Tobin immediately feels bad. It’s easy to get caught up in work, and painting, and now Christen, but Lauren is right—they haven’t seen each other in person in much too long. “I will soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise.” She’s rapidly approaching the small town hall where the AA meetings are held, so she signs off (pun intended) with Lauren, scheduling a call for the next day. It’s nice to get out of the cold, and Tobin can feel warmth creeping back into her fingers as she navigates hallways that she has memorized. It’s a strange Saturday tradition of hers, going from setting up one meeting in the church to another across town. She fishes the keys to room 5A out of the pocket of her sweatshirt, coughing a bit when dust is kicked up as the door opens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only takes a few minutes for her to set up folding chairs in a circle and pull more snacks from her bag, arranging everything in a familiar pattern. She’s been running these meetings for over 5 years, and somehow she still never quite knows what to do with herself as she waits for everyone else to show up. This time, against her better judgement, she opens Facebook and scrolls through Christen’s profile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin has become accustomed to sharing as little as possible about herself, because people tend to get scared when they learn more about her. But now she’s realizing that somehow, she doesn’t know much about Christen either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other woman is a teacher, of course. And she’s close to her family. She used to have a girlfriend. Apparently, she doesn’t have many friends (although Tobin desperately wishes to change that).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, she thinks, Christen doesn’t exactly know a lot about her either. She knows that Tobin is a painter, works at a hospital, and is fluent in ASL. That’s barely enough to figure out whether you want to know a person. Somehow, Christen keeps coming back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a miracle that she’s kept anyone around, Tobin realizes as she fidgets with her hands in her lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, people start filtering in right at that moment to rescue Tobin from her mini-spiral. She focuses all her energy on greeting them, polite nods and smiles. Some of them look beaten-down, completely exhausted. Tobin knows that look, and figures they’re probably newly-sober or trying to get there. But then some are happy, glad to be back, and Tobin knows their faces better. They’re the ones who’ve been coming for months or years, who have a small collection of sobriety chips. They’re the ones Tobin knows best after countless stories shared across the circle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When most of the chairs are filled, Tobin stands up and waits for attention to shift to her. “Welcome, everybody. My name is Tobin, I’m a former alcoholic and I’ll be running this meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hour goes smoothly, although tissues are broken out a couple of times. It breaks Tobin’s heart a bit, knowing what everyone in the room has gone through and hearing their stories. It’s also hopeful, though; over the years Tobin has gotten to watch as everyone in the room has grown. These people remind her why she’s sober. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she quietly says goodbye to everyone and packs up the room, she can’t help but reflect on how lucky she is—to be sober, to have a good job, to have amazing friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And how lucky she is to have stumbled upon Christen (not just once, but twice now).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every part of Tobin hopes that she won’t fuck this—whatever is happening between her and Christen—up spectacularly. Because she has a self-destructive streak, and a tendency to run away. The other woman is worth it, though. Tobin just knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a while since she’s thought that someone is worth it, like this. Christen is just different. And Tobin will try her damn best to hold on to the other woman. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>once again please tell me what you think, i have no concept of the worth of anything i do! i appreciate y'all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Painting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i present to you the gift of another chapter! (although i haven't read it through since writing so it might be a gift full of typos.) i didn't reply to any comments on the last chapter cus i've been overwhelmed lately with school, but know that i really appreciate them and y'all help me a lot. also, if there's anything i can do to be more respectful/accurate of the deaf/hard of hearing community, please please please let me know! i'm still learning about it and i want to learn more. this one is a lil bit more angsty, because it wouldn't be one of my stories without angst. and as always, feel free to comment because i love reading them.</p>
<p>that's all for now - hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tobin hates mornings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or, as Lauren used to tease her once they learned what analogies are, “Tobin and mornings mix like orange juice and toothpaste”. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Groaning, Tobin manages to drag herself out of bed and slap at her phone until the alarm turns off. She shuffles to the bathroom to take her Adderall and vitamins and wash her face, then makes her way to the kitchen and starts the electric kettle. Tobin hasn’t had coffee in years—as soon as she got sober caffeine just became another dependency, and she learned the hard way that coffee and Adderall don’t mix—but she doesn’t give a shit what anyone says. Tea will never replace coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nonetheless, a few minutes later she flops into a chair with her tea and a bowl of Crispy Square-Shaped Corn Cereal. Generic cereal is the sacrifice she’s made to help finance her more illegal painting practices, and at this point Tobin thinks she’s forgotten what normal cereal tastes like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She goes through the rest of her morning routine as normal, only checking her phone for messages from Christen one or two times more than she usually would. Unfortunately her only messages are from Pinoe, sending her tiktoks and memes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time she pulls up to the hospital’s parking lot, the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon. Tobin heads inside quickly to avoid the cold, greeting a few people on the way in, mostly using sign language. People are always surprised when they find out that Freeman Community has a staff that’s about half hearing-impaired or fluent in sign language, but for Tobin the novelty wore off a long time ago. Now it’s just another part of her job, along with talking Pinoe down from her ridiculous ideas and painting in the garden with patients. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all her energy, Pinoe definitely isn’t a morning person either. All Tobin gets when she enters the psych wing is a grunt and slight nod as greeting. “Good morning to you too,” Tobin laughs as she stows her phone and wallet in a small locker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, Sue had me up late.” Pinoe just keeps going about her business with no acknowledgement of Tobin’s sputtering and red face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s way too much information, man.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Toby, you just have a dirty mind.” She rolls her eyes dramatically as she turns to face Tobin with her hands on her hips. “I meant we were watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Parks and Rec</span>
  </em>
  <span> and lost track of time. Get your mind out of the gutter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Properly chastened, Tobin shakes her head and pulls off her shirt so that she can start changing into a set of Baby Yoda-patterned scrubs. Megan has already changed and lays on a bench in flamingo scrubs, probably scrolling through Instagram. “How was AA and painting class, by the way? You never texted me back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I was sketching a concept yesterday and my phone died,” Tobin replies. “They were both good, though. I think Christen had a good time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other woman immediately sits up upon hearing Christen’s name, waggling her eyebrows at Tobin. “Did she have a good time, or did she have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good time</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s this about Tobin’s girl having a good time?” Of course Amy chooses the exact worst time to walk in, and Tobin drops her head into her hands when she sees Pinoe’s manic grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not my </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Tobin protests weakly. “And she didn’t have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We painted and then I went to AA. That was it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Megan and ARod share a glance, clearly communicating something with their eyes, and suddenly Tobin is very worried. “Does she know that you went to AA after?” Amy asks in a much gentler tone than her last question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna have to tell her at some point, Tobs,” Pinoe prods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I have time! I’m not gonna fuck this up two weeks in, because newsflash, most people get turned off when you tell them you’re an alcoholic!” She doesn’t realize she’s almost yelling until she glances at the wide eyes of the two women across from her. “Just… fuck. I don’t want to talk about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A thick silence settles over the three, and Tobin feels a bit like it’s choking her. She finishes changing as quickly as she can and bolts out of the room, finding the nearest bathroom so that she can wash her face and take a few deep breaths before they have to meet for their assignments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not ashamed of her past. Or at least, she tries not to be. But it’s hard to do when that past has hurt people. And Tobin would never forgive herself if she hurt Christen somehow. She certainly wouldn’t blame Christen if the other woman learned about her past and decided to walk out. That’s a chance that Tobin can’t take, at least not right now. Not yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> On her way out of the bathroom, she avoids looking at herself in the mirror, scared that all she’ll see is her teenage self who fucked everything up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Pinoe and ARod apologize in unison when Tobin meets them for assignments. “We shouldn’t have pushed you. I know it’s sensitive, and you shouldn’t tell Christen anything unless you’re ready,” Amy says while Pinoe nods behind her. Tobin just smiles tightly, turning to their supervisor instead of giving an actual answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, the group of nurses and aides splits up. Tobin usually gets a handful of deaf patients to look after, since she’s among the most fluent in the ward in ASL, and today is no different. She goes between rooms, switching the lights on and off and hoping that that’ll be enough to wake everyone up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin manages to shepherd everyone to the common area quickly enough that they’re one of the first groups there (meaning that she doesn’t have to deal with Pinoe and ARod for at least another couple minutes). She sits and signs with her patients while they eat breakfast, mostly chatting about mundane things like the weather or holidays coming up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an interesting group, and one Tobin enjoys spending time with. She’s been working with a few of them for as long as a couple weeks, and although in an ideal world there would be nobody in her ward, it’s nice to see people making progress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tries not to feel the dread in her stomach that comes along with the thought of telling Christen everything. All throughout breakfast, Tobin resists the instinct to get up and run until her lungs give out, until none of it matters anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead she stays rooted to the spot, trying desperately to remember that she’s done running. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The morning goes by without incident, probably partly due to the fact that Tobin tries as hard as she can to avoid her friends. Since it’s sunny she gets permission to lead an impromptu painting session in the hospital’s garden, clearing her to spend at least another hour without seeing Pinoe and ARod. Tobin helps get everyone set up, handing out paints in a practiced way. Thankfully she doesn’t have to lead this like her painting class, so she sinks into her own painting and stops thinking, instead focusing solely on her brush strokes and color choices.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only when ARod comes to fetch them for lunch that Tobin takes a step back from the canvas and realizes—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s halfway through a painting of Christen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin nearly trips over herself trying to obscure the painting before ARod can see it; she ends up standing awkwardly in front of it in a last-ditch effort to hide it. “Hey,” Amy says carefully as she walks up to Tobin. The garden has been vacated by everyone except the two of them, and Tobin curses herself for not leaving with all the patients.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heey,” Tobin replies, trying to sound confident and failing miserably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I really am sorry about what happened. I love you no matter what and if Christen is as great as she seems, she’ll do the same. Please don’t leave me all alone with Pinoe again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time since that morning, Tobin lets a smile slip onto her face. “I won’t,” she mutters as she steps into Amy’s waiting arms for a hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me. It’ll be okay, Toby.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t guarantee that—” Tobin starts to argue, but ARod steps away before she can finish and points to the painting, now left uncovered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s pretty, holy shit.” She turns back toward Tobin with an accusatory look on her face and a shadow of a smile on her lips. “You better not be cheating on Ms. Christen, Tobin Heath.” Tobin sputters trying to defend herself, but Amy just laughs and pushes by her on the way back into the hospital. “Come on, it’s time for lunch. I’ll see you in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, Tobin lays down, spreading out on the grass and slowly breathing out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll be okay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After everything that happened in the morning, Tobin assumes that the rest of the day will be uneventful. Unfortunately, she forgets that making assumptions is a terrible thing to do when you’re friends with Megan Rapinoe. And that bites her in the ass the minute she walks back into the ward, hauling the painting along with her like precious cargo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tobito, you have a visitor,” Megan croons with a sparkle in her eye when she sees Tobin trying to sneak by her. ARod is there too, standing and chatting with someone, but it doesn’t register who she is until the woman turns around and Tobin’s mind goes blank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her first thought is </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh fuck, it’s Christen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her second thought, immediately after the first, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh fuck, it’s Christen and I’m carrying a fucking painting of her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amy saves her from potential disaster by smoothly taking the painting from her. “I’ll make sure this gets to the staff room,” she says before nodding good-bye to Christen. On her way by, she smirks at Tobin and whispers, “I knew I recognized her from somewhere.” Tobin just stands there trying not to have a heart attack (although a hospital would certainly be the right place for it). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Christen, what brings you here?” Pinoe interrupts the silence, startling them both. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, Christen is just as awkward as Tobin, blushing and playing with her hands while she answers. “Well, um, we actually had a teacher work day at the middle school, and I had a break in my meetings, so I thought I would come down and ask…” she pauses, taking a breath and meeting Tobin’s eyes for the first time. “I get that this might be asking a lot, but a hard-of-hearing student just transferred into my class and I think he would really benefit from talking to someone in ASL if you wouldn’t mind.” It all comes out in a rush, leaving Tobin blinking slowly as she tries to process it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to feel obligated but—” Christen tries to start again, but Tobin cuts her off quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do it.” (Both of them miss Pinoe standing in the corner, looking between them with a huge smile and wide eyes.) “Um, when were you thinking? I’ll be done here at around 6, depending on how things go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would actually work great. He and his parents were going to meet for a tour, and having you there will really help.” They look at each other for a minute, both with tinted cheeks and small smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until Megan breaks the silence by loudly clearing her throat. “I hate to put a stop to the staring, but Tobin, you and I have to get in there and eat lunch otherwise our break will be gone.” Tobin glares at her, but Megan just raises her eyebrows until Tobin is forced to accept it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! I’m sorry, I’ll let you guys eat lunch.” Christen steps forward to hug Tobin, and Tobin tries her best not to immediately freeze at the contact. “I’ll see you at 6ish,” she grins when they separate. “Thanks again.” With a wave to Pinoe and one last glance in Tobin’s direction, she’s gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin, of course, is completely dumbstruck. “Was that real?” She asks Pinoe, who’s trying to stifle laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As real as that painting you made of her. I guess you’re seeing her at 6!” Tobin vows to kill her friend someday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, though, she’s content with the promise of seeing Christen later.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Student</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>if you have emotional baggage and you know it, clap your hands!</p>
<p>*clap clap*</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey everybody! happy holidays and merry almost-christmas, for those of you who celebrate it. as usual this is pretty much unedited and written close to midnight, so hopefully it's not terrible. i appreciate those of y'all who comment, because i am in desperate need of validation! </p>
<p>stay safe out there &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Christen is nearly vibrating with excitement and nerves as she stares through the window of her classroom, waiting for Tobin’s car to pull into the parking lot. It’s just past 6, and she knows that it’s unlikely Tobin will be showing up soon enough to justify waiting like this, but apparently when it comes to Tobin all logical thought goes out the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To occupy herself, she turns on her phone and goes to check her email, scrolling through the various meeting requests and late assignments. In the middle of replying to one, Tobin walks in, startling her so badly that she nearly jumps out of her seat. “Hey,” Christen greets her, trying (and failing) to disguise her flinching by shifting positions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Tobin laughs. “The school looks a lot different without kids around, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s always weird.” They stay in their respective spots for a minute, both shifting awkwardly. “Oh, um. Have a seat. Dan and his parents will be here any minute.” Christen suddenly remembers her manners, standing up and pulling out a chair next to hers for Tobin, who graciously takes the seat. Once again, they fall into silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks again for coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. I don’t usually get to work with younger kids, so thanks for inviting me,” the other woman grins back at Christen. Their eyes meet for the first time since Tobin came in, and Christen can feel her cheeks flushing immediately. She’s never reacted to anyone else like this, and she can’t help but think that it’s a little unfair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), Christen doesn’t have much time to reflect on her reactions. Her student and his parents walk in a couple seconds after she breaks eye contact with Tobin, and they both stand up to greet the group. “It’s so nice to meet you,” Christen tells Dan’s parents, hoping that her voice isn’t as shaky as it sounds in her head. “This is Tobin, she’ll be acting as an interpreter tonight.” When she looks over, Tobin is already excitedly greeting the student on her own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We really appreciate you having us,” Dan’s father (James, Christen remembers) says while shaking her hand. “This is my partner, Connor, and of course you’ve heard a lot about Dan already.” She steps forward to shake Connor’s hand as well, but their son is already so wrapped up with Tobin that it seems fruitless to do the same for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, after a minute Tobin straightens up and extends her own hand to the two men in front of them. “I know Christen already introduced me, but I’m Tobin. It’s really nice to meet y’all.” They both nod at her in thanks before she grabs Dan’s attention and turns to Christen. “This is Christen, she’s gonna be your teacher. She’s pretty cool and I know she’s super excited to have you in her class,” Tobin says, both speaking and signing at the same time. Christen gives a small wave to her student, and he returns it with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thank God for Tobin and her endless charm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright then, should we get started?” Christen asks, and as soon as Tobin confirms that Dan is ready, they all step out into the hallway to begin the tour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Interacting with Dan brings out a whole side of Tobin that Christen hasn’t seen before. She’s all grins and laughing, signing fluidly along with Christen but also clearly adding her own commentary that makes Dan laugh as well. The pair end up trailing behind Christen and Dan’s parents, but it’s clear every time Christen looks back at them that the young boy is completely enamored with Tobin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a great kid,” Tobin tells his parents at one point while Dan is looking at a mural on the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two men share a loving look when they hear Tobin’s praise, both practically glowing, and Christen aches with how bad she wants that some day. “We know,” Connor replies. “You’re really great with him. I don’t know if he’s ever been this happy to be at a school.” They all share a laugh, but Christen is more focused on the woman in front of her. It seems impossible to take her eyes off of Tobin, and she doesn’t know if she’s ever wanted to just sit and stare at someone this badly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Actually, she does know, and she definitely hasn’t ever wanted to stare at someone like she does Tobin.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It must be some kind of miracle that she makes it through the rest of the tour without acting like a total creeper whenever she’s around Tobin. By the grace of the universe, though, they wrap up without any problems. Christen gets to have a conversation with Dan through Tobin before he leaves, and true to Tobin’s word he really does seem like a good kid. It’s a good family, Christen decides as she watches the group leave, all laughing together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wants to have a family like that, someday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When everyone else has cleared out of the building, Christen and Tobin are left alone again, sitting next to each other on top of a table. Christen goes right back to staring at Tobin, who’s strangely quiet. “You’re quiet,” she observes out loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin looks at her and smiles softly. “Yeah. I just had a really good time. I wish there was a way I could see him again.” She pauses, briefly breaking eye contact to look at the floor. “He was really excited to be in your class, you know. Thought you were nice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you think?” Christen surprises herself by asking it, and Tobin looks just as surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you seem like a great teacher. Honestly, you seem like the kind of teacher that I could have used as a kid. So I’m glad that other kids will have you.” Instead of breaking eye contact this time, their staring only gets more intense, to the point where Christen can barely even think about what the last part of Tobin’s statement means. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost unconsciously, she starts to lean in towards Tobin. The staring is finally broken when Tobin’s eyes flit down to her lips, and Christen’s entire body is tingling with how badly she wants this to happen. They keep inching closer until Christen closes her eyes on instinct and they’re so close that their breaths are hitting each other’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen can’t believe this is actually happening. She expects that any minute now, she'll finally be kissing Tobin, but instead—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead Tobin pulls away at the last second. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I know that I probably seem weird, but I just—I can’t right now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Christen whispers, and finally Tobin looks back up at her. As much as she wanted to kiss Tobin, she hates it more that the other woman looks so uncomfortable now. “You don’t need to explain. It’s okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I really did want to! And I’m gonna kiss you at some point, I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen can’t help but laugh at how much Tobin resembles a puppy in the moment, but she quickly claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes how inappropriate it probably seems. “I know, baby,” she tries to reassure Tobin. When it registers what she said, though, Christen wants to burst into flames. “Sorry, I know you weren’t comfortable with kissing and it was really weird to call you that and I don’t even know why—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chris,” Tobin finally cuts her off. “I don’t mind.” When Christen gets up enough courage to look at Tobin again, she’s greeted by a small smile. Tobin takes her hand and kisses it softly before intertwining their fingers, and Christen thinks she might burst into flames for an entirely different reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lapse back into familiar silence, still holding hands on top of the desk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Telepathy would be nice right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Christen thinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fortunate thing about Tobin, as Christen is quickly learning, is that she tends to speak what’s on her mind. Meaning that instead of telepathy, Christen gets to be startled when Tobin jumps off the desk and claps her hands. “Let’s go look at dogs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry—what?” She can’t help but sound incredulous after the sudden mood switch, especially considering how serious Tobin seemed before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go look at dogs,” the other woman repeats. “One, when Dan was here with his dad you had that look in your eye like you wanted a kid or something. Two, I happen to know that there’s a shelter down the street that’s still open. Three, dogs make everything better and I think we could both use a puppy hug.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen is still sitting in shock when Tobin finishes her spiel. Although, she has to admit that a puppy hug does sound pretty good, and also Tobin looks extremely excited and who could turn down an excited Tobin? “Let’s do it,” she agrees after a moment. Tobin immediately pulls her off the desk, moving around with even more energy than usual. She waits as Christen gathers up her things and locks up the classroom, then grabs her hand and guides her toward the parking lot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s driving?” Christen asks when they’re hit by the cool night air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know the way, so it might be easier for me to take us.” Christen nods in agreement and drops off some of her stuff in her own car before getting in Tobin’s (surprisingly clean) car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they drive, Christen takes the opportunity to observe the other woman in silence. She notices that Tobin drives a bit like a grandma; she frequently checks her mirrors, goes well under the speed limit in most places, and tenses up whenever a pedestrian is nearby. Christen makes a mental note to ask her about it at some point. For now, though, she figures they’ve both had enough drama. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>True to Tobin’s word, the animal shelter is indeed open. They walk right in and Tobin leads her straight to the puppies in the back, all of whom wag their tails when they see the women approaching. Tobin makes cooing noises at them, bending down to let them sniff her hand through the kennel door. The puppies take to her about as quickly as Dan did, all tumbling over themselves to try to get closer to her. Christen hangs back, laughing at how excited Tobin and the dogs are to see each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mere, Chris!” Tobin waves her over when the puppies have calmed down slightly. She bends down alongside the other woman, who promptly deposits treats in her hand. The puppies shift their attention away from Tobin and flock to her instead, and Christen has to admit that it makes her feel a little bit accomplished. “Cute, aren’t they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very.” Contrary to their words, though, both women are looking at each other instead of the puppies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stay at the shelter until closing time, sitting on the floor with their knees touching while they play with the dogs. It’s the ideal way to spend a night, Christen decides, even with the botched kiss earlier.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, in no time at all they’ve arrived back at the school parking lot, essentially ending their night. For a while they stay in Tobin’s car, radio playing softly, both reluctant to get out and end their time together. “Well,” Christen starts after a couple minutes pass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Tobin repeats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks again for helping out with Dan. And about what you said earlier, about wanting to see him again—you could totally come into the classroom and help out some days. I don’t really know what your work schedule is like, but I’ll always take an extra set of hands.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin’s eyes light up when she registers the information, and she nods vigorously. “I might have to rearrange my shift schedule a little, but totally. That would be amazing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Christen murmurs. After a second Tobin starts to lean over the console, and Christen’s breath catches in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Chris,” the other woman says quietly. She kisses Christen’s cheek softly after she says it, and Christen has to resist the urge to reach up and touch the spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thrill of the night doesn’t wear off until long after Christen gets home. She falls into bed still thinking about Tobin’s lips, about her hands on Christen’s. However, instead of satisfying the ache that’s settled heavy in the pit of her stomach ever since the almost-kiss, Christen stares up at the ceiling of her sister’s guest room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no way she could have predicted any of this. Never in a million years would she have predicted that she would be thinking about someone like this so soon after ending things with Emily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then again, most things can’t be predicted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And despite it all, Christen likes where she is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She likes Tobin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(A lot.)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>feel free to comment any thoughts/feelings/general ramblings, as it really really helps :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Game Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm... actually kind of proud of this one?? only slightly edited, so all mistakes are my own. we're nearing the end, people!! also, if you're in the us please stay safe tomorrow and stay away from state capitols. love y'all. </p>
<p>also also, THREE CHEERS FOR MEWIS DOMINATION FUCK YEAH</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few weeks after her almost-kiss with Tobin, Christen has (mostly) managed to take her mind off of it and focus on work. They haven’t had much contact since the tour, only occasional text messages after they exchanged numbers on Facebook. Which is why Christen is so surprised when her phone starts buzzing out of nowhere with a phone call from the other woman on a random Monday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” Christen picks up the phone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, hey.” Tobin sounds tinny through the speakers, but her voice still automatically relaxes Christen. “Sorry to call out of nowhere, I just had a question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so I usually hold a game night once a month with my friends, and they wanted to invite you. Are you doing anything on Friday night?” Christen starts to wish that they had met in person, just so that she could see Tobin’s expression at the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m free,” she replies without missing a beat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, I’ll text you the details. Bye,” Tobin says as she hangs up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen sighs and flops onto Tyler’s couch, mind already racing with thoughts about the upcoming game night. What do people take to game nights? Which of Tobin’s friends will be there? Is this only a pity invite, after Christen confessed that she doesn’t have any friends? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few minutes of this, her thoughts start to go in circles and her fingers itch for some kind of action to halt her building anxiety. So naturally, Christen turns to Google. But after multiple unsuccessful searches (apparently the answer to </span>
  <em>
    <span>what to bring to game night</span>
  </em>
  <span> is a lot of snacks that require preparation), she finds herself falling down a rabbithole that involves a lot of very personal questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>is a game night invite platonic</span>
  </em>
  <span> (all that comes up is ideas for board games, which doesn’t help at all.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>can a game night be a date </span>
  </em>
  <span>(it’s not entirely clear, but the general consensus is possibly.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>what does it mean if the girl i have feelings for invites me to a game night because she knows i’m lonely but also almost kissed me </span>
  </em>
  <span>(Google doesn’t have any advice for this.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not until Tyler comes home that Christen finally gets an answer to at least one of her questions, when her sister suggests wine as something to take. It seems a mile away from all of the snack lists she found on Google, but Christen is desperate for at least one answer, so she sets a reminder on her phone to pick up a bottle of wine before the game night and calls it good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Three more days</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she tells herself before she goes to bed that night. She feels a lot like a kid again, when she was giddy and fidgeting the night before Christmas or her birthday. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Three more days.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those three days come and go with surprising quickness. Christen spends most of her time purposely avoiding Google, trying her best not to dig herself into the hole of worrying about where she stands with Tobin. Aside from a single text containing Tobin’s address and the time, they haven’t talked since the invitation; Christen tries to tell herself that it’s simply because the other woman is busy, but it doesn’t do much to actually ease her anxiety. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Friday afternoon finally arrives, Christen is out the door of her classroom as soon as she dismisses her class. She spends at least an hour after school gets out agonizing over what to wear to Tobin’s. It’s embarrassing how nervous she is to go to an event that’s probably entirely platonic, but she can’t help the way her cheeks seem to have a permanent blush and she starts to sweat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Help arrives when Tyler walks in her apartment door, clearly exhausted after a long week of working. She sighs and tosses her bag on the floor, then freezes when she sees the way Christen is looking at her. “What do you want?” She doesn’t seem too annoyed to help, so Christen jumps on her chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need help picking out an outfit for tonight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tyler looks her up and down, smirking, before she makes her way into the guest bedroom to rummage around in Christen’s closet. A few minutes later she comes out with a pair of her own ripped jeans and a tight-fitting shirt that Christen forgot she owns. “Stick a jacket over this and you’ll be set,” Tyler says as she throws the clothes at Christen. Christen tries to voice her appreciation, but Tyler is in her own room before she can, so instead she settles for getting ready and trying not to sweat through her clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ends up leaving half an hour earlier than she had to, mostly because if she had stayed in the apartment any longer she might have vomited from nerves. Plus, driving will hopefully calm her down. Christen rolls down the windows of her beat-up car and lets the air flow through her hair, welcoming the chill that comes with dusk. It only takes a couple minutes to make her way to the grocery store, where she grabs a cheap (to the tune of eight dollars) bottle of wine. Her job is great, but there’s definitely something to be said for making more money. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the wine out of the way, there’s not really anything else for Christen to do except drive around randomly until it’s time to head to Tobin’s. She doesn’t have a destination in mind, until she pulls into a parking lot and realizes that she’s at the park where she first met Tobin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s strange, looking at the place from a different angle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The memory of how distraught she was still haunts Christen, but now she can see Tobin’s graffiti on the wall. And the beauty of the mural overshadows any lingering anxieties from that night. A field of wildflowers covers the wall, all different colors and varieties. Christen can’t tear her eyes away, and the light cast over it by the setting sun only highlights the flowers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knew Tobin was a good painter, but this—this is something else entirely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen sits in her car, staring at the painting, until the sun finally dips low enough to envelope everything in darkness. Only when she turns her car back on and looks at the time does she realize that she was supposed to be at Tobin’s over ten minutes ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” She backs out of the lot as quickly as she can without crashing into anyone, going just above the speed limit in order to get back to Tobin’s apartment as quickly as possible. (She may be panicking and running late, but she’s also not about to crash or get pulled over.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she eventually makes it to her original destination, Christen is almost half an hour late. It’s extremely rare for her to be late at all, and she’s immediately overtaken by anxiety over what Tobin’s friends think about her. Do they think she doesn’t care about Tobin, that she’s flaky or unreliable?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More importantly, does Tobin think she doesn’t care about this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, Christen finds herself sitting in her car, although this time it’s for a very different reason. It’s difficult to get her breathing under control, and she hopes that she hasn’t started sweating again. But, at some point, she decides that it’s now or never.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk up to Tobin’s apartment is terrible. Deciding to do something never makes actually doing it easier, as Christen has discovered. By the time she arrives at Tobin’s door, she has a whole speech planned out about why she’s late and how sorry she is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It turns out she doesn’t need a speech. “Christen!” Tobin grins as soon as she opens the door. “Come in! Everyone’s at the table.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late,” Christen starts, but Tobin cuts in before she can fully apologize.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me, don’t worry about it. Pinoe only got here five minutes ago, so we weren’t exactly raring to go already.” Megan sheepishly waves from the table, and Christen instantly feels more comfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin introduces everyone, pointing out Sue, Adam, Ashlyn, and Ali, who haven’t met Christen yet. At some point before they start the first game, Christen suddenly remembers the wine in her bag. “I almost forgot, but I thought I should bring something so I grabbed a bottle of wine on the way here.” Megan and Amy immediately look to Tobin, whose jaw is clenched. Sue, Megan’s girlfriend, ignores the sudden tension and asks Christen a question about herself, but it doesn’t stop Christen from noticing how Megan and Tobin are whispering urgently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Megan suddenly says loudly as she stands up and claps her hands. “Christen how about you and I pour some wine for whoever wants it, and then we can get started?” Everyone nods in agreement, and Megan guides Christen to the kitchen after taking stock of who wants the wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pour three glasses, and Christen can’t help but ask, “did I do something wrong? I just didn’t know what to bring, and my sister suggested wine…” she trails off, watching as Megan carefully pours the wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Megan reassures her. “It’s just that we’re generally not really big drinkers, so I think everyone was a little bit surprised. But you’re fine, I promise.” Christen nods, trying to take solace in Megan’s words, but she can’t help but remember the way Tobin tensed up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Megan leads the way back into Tobin’s living room, setting a glass of wine down in front of Amy’s boyfriend Adam, giving one to Christen, and keeping one for herself. They all settle down and watch as Tobin and Sue debate the first game. It’s decided that they’ll play Exploding Kittens, so Amy explains the rules to Christen while the cards are passed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it turns out, Christen is absolutely terrible at Exploding Kittens. She’s the first one out every single round, but she’s having too much fun watching everyone else to care that much. It’s clear that this group of friends is used to being around each other, and they joke in a practiced way without excluding the newcomer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the fifth time she loses, Christen decides she needs to use the bathroom. Tobin points her in the general direction, and she leaves everyone else to play while she locates it. First door on the left is what Tobin said. Or was it the second door? For the life of her, she can’t remember, so instead of going back and interrupting the game she takes her chance and opens the first door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She almost gasps in shock when she sees her own face staring back at her across the room. It's become quite clear that this isn't the bathroom—taking in the half-made bed and shelf of painting supplies, Christen figures it must be Tobin's room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except that still doesn't explain why Tobin has a painting of her. Or why Tobin would have painted her in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing is, though—Christen can't stop staring at the painting. Tobin made her look so </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Seeing herself through Tobin's eyes is stunning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this how Tobin sees her?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But before she can stay and keep staring like a creeper, shouts erupt from the living room that remind her where she is. Christen tears herself away from the painting, gently closes the door to Tobin’s room, and makes her way to the bathroom (the actual bathroom this time, thank God). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, being alone in the bathroom gives Christen time to ruminate. So when she walks back into the living room, she’s caught up in thoughts of the painting, of Tobin tensing up, of their almost-kiss and all the things she has yet to learn about Tobin. It’s all a bit too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why she downs her glass of wine the moment she sits down, and immediately gets another one. It’s something to do besides think, and Christen desperately needs to stop thinking right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They switch from Exploding Kittens to Clue, and then Uno. Christen is still having fun, and she loves Tobin’s friends, but she’s also getting progressively more drunk. It’s so bad that Tobin pulls her back after everyone else leaves. “You’re staying here,” she declares with absolute certainty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t want to bother you,” Christen protests, but she’s pretty much incapable of putting up a fight as Tobin leads her to her bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no way you’re safe to drive. I would rather have you here than risk you crashing or hurting someone. Besides, I can just take the couch.” Tobin seems so sure that Christen has a hard time thinking of anything to counter, so she acquiesces and accepts the pajamas that Tobin throws at her. She changes in the bathroom and brushes her teeth with an extra toothbrush, trying not to think about how she’s wearing Tobin’s pajamas and is about to sleep in Tobin’s bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(She fails miserably, of course, but at least she tries.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she’s done, Christen makes her way back into Tobin’s bedroom. The painting is noticeably absent now, but Christen is so distracted by Tobin’s presence that she can’t find it in herself to care. Before she fully knows what she’s doing, she wraps Tobin in a tight hug in the doorway of the room. “Thank you. For everything,” she whispers into Tobin’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other woman kisses her forehead softly, letting her lips linger for a moment before she replies. “Of course. Sweet dreams,” Tobin murmurs as she guides Christen to bed after extracting herself from her arms. She tucks Christen in and closes the door softly behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she’s laying there, in the dark, Christen realizes that she hasn’t felt this loved in a long time. And as she drifts off to sleep, she’s determined to hold onto the feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bright light invades Christen’s eyelids and makes her suddenly aware of a pounding headache. She groans and stretches before remembering that she’s still in Tobin’s apartment and freezing. The apartment, however, is dead silent, so Christen unfreezes and looks around. The only thing different than last night is a note left on the bedside table: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had painting class. Stay as long as you like. Text me if you want when you wake up. -Tobin xx</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen hugs the sheets to her chest, recalling the painting that’s probably still somewhere in the room and the way Tobin cared for her last night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knows what she has to do. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Confession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>we've arrived at the penultimate chapter! tbh i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but after it sat in my drafts for like three weeks (oops) i decided to just go for it. basically unedited, so hopefully there aren't too many typos. </p>
<p>hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Tobin wakes up on Saturday morning, there’s a moment where she’s very confused as to why she’s on the couch instead of her bed. Then she remembers why she’s on the couch, and immediately flushes bright red. A part of her can’t quite believe that Christen is in her room, wearing her clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now Tobin isn’t quite sure where she stands with Christen, whether they’re friends or something more. But she’s completely sure of one thing: she has to get out of this apartment before she goes insane thinking about the other woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her mind made up, Tobin jumps off the couch and busies herself by getting ready to leave. She opens the door to her room as softly as possible, not wanting to wake Christen, in order to grab a change of clothes for herself and one to leave out for Christen when she wakes up. Along with a glass of water and some ibuprofen left on the nightstand by a note, Tobin figures that that should be enough to get Christen through the morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If only Lauren could see me now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Tobin laughs to herself when she gets in her car in what must be record time for a morning. The sun is slowly making its way above the horizon as she pulls out of the parking lot. Last time she checked a clock it was only 9:17, so she has plenty of time before she has to head to the church for her class. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter how much driving sometimes stresses her out, aimless driving will always be the best kind. She doesn’t have a plan, but after a few random turns it becomes clear that she’s instinctually heading to her favorite park. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s no coincidence that this park is also where she painted one of her favorite murals—the wildflowers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In hindsight, Tobin probably could’ve brought at least one of her sketchbooks and worked on a project or idea. She curses herself when she realizes that her most current sketchbook is probably sitting open on the coffee table in her apartment, where she left it last night before going to sleep. Even so, for once Tobin is content to find a park bench and sit with herself opposite the painting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurs to her after a while that this is where she met Christen. It’s a strange way to have met someone—in the dark, one of them crying, the other probably committing a felony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s even stranger to think about how important Christen has become to her in the weeks since. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin lays back on the bench, letting her mind wander. She thinks about everything that’s led her here, all the good and all the bad. For once, the bad doesn’t sting quite as much when she pairs it with the good. Maybe because right now things are good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, at least, everything feels okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen discovers that morning that Tobin has horrible taste in cereal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After she takes the ibuprofen on the nightstand and drags herself out of Tobin’s bed, Christen makes her way to the other woman’s kitchen. It’s weirdly surreal, to be in this strange apartment with nobody else around. Everything is quiet as Christen sorts through cabinets, trying to find something she can eat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, to her disappointment, she locates a box of Crispy Square-Shaped Corn Cereal. Seemingly everything Tobin eats is generic or off-brand, so Christen settles down with a bowl of the bland cereal, figuring it’s the best thing she’ll find. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While she eats, she can’t help but observe Tobin’s living space. The other woman is deceptively neat when it comes to the bookshelves in the living room or her stash of paint. In other areas, clutter is strewn about in a way that seems casual but intentional at the same time (like the jar of pencils on the windowsill, next to a line of painted rocks). What most interests Christen, however, is the art. Every wall in sight has at least one painting on it, and most have two or three; there are framed drawings and half-finished sketches on surfaces throughout the apartment. She can’t tear her eyes away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything she sees in Tobin’s space just makes her more sure that she wants to learn all she can about the woman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of it convinces her beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tobin is beautiful. Her brain, the way she sees the world, is breathtaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And all of it reinforces that she needs to tell Tobin everything she’s been feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Christen checks the time when she’s done eating. It’s only 11:15, so she figures she has some time to kill before Tobin’s class ends at around 12. To fill the time, she makes her way back to the bedroom and manages to find her phone where Tobin must have plugged it in last night. It immediately blows up with messages from Tyler, trying to make sure she’s okay. She shoots a quick reply to her sister, explaining the situation, before she notices that she also has a message from Emily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Found more of ur books. Come pick them up?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Choosing to ignore the text, Christen turns off her phone and sinks down onto the bed. Although she and Emily have been cordial and vaguely friendly so far, Christen knows that she interrupted the trajectory of their lives in one of the worst ways possible. It’s hard to know that you hurt someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s determined not to do the same to Tobin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that thought, she gets her ass off the bed and focuses on finding her clothes from last night. Unfortunately, her clothes don’t seem to be anywhere in the room—instead, there’s a stack of Tobin’s clothes sitting on the dresser. Christen slowly pulls them on after inspecting them; she can’t help but continuously look around as she changes, feeling like she’s doing something wrong. But nobody pops out and yells “gotcha!”, so Christen gives herself a moment to sink into Tobin’s familiar scent and just relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As relaxed as she is, however, it’s nearly time to leave. So she quickly brushes her teeth, gathers her things and makes her way out of the apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If this goes well, hopefully she’ll be able to stop thinking about Emily once and for all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin can’t stop herself from smiling as she sets up chairs and piles canvases by the door. Saturday is by far her favorite day of the week, partially because she doesn’t have to wake up early and partially because she gets to lead her class. It certainly doesn’t hurt her mood that she got to see Christen last night (and this morning). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As people start to make their way in, Tobin greets them one by one. There are a lot of familiar faces, like the old couple who are at the class every week or the young mother whose son Tobin sometimes gets to play with. She knows a few of them personally at this point, joking with them and catching up when they come in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once all the usuals have arrived, Tobin realizes that without her sketchbook, she doesn’t have a solid idea of what she’ll paint. No matter how much she tries to remember what her plan was, she can’t come up with anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Today’s going to be a free paint,” she announces after grabbing everyone’s attention. “Do whatever you want, and I’ll try to come around and critique or help if you need it.” The room quickly falls back into silence once everyone has their paints, and Tobin sits back for a minute to ponder what she could paint. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If only I had brought the painting of Christen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks. She’s been aching to finish it ever since Amy first interrupted her, and this would have been the perfect chance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead she settles on an ocean landscape, periodically walking around to help anyone who’s stuck. The class goes smoothly, and by the end a few participants are so proud of their paintings that they hang them on the wall of fame, replacing older pieces with their new favorites. Tobin climbs up on a stepladder and lets each person direct her on where to hang their work, then starts clearing the room after everyone has said goodbye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s nearly done putting away the chairs when she hears someone walking toward the room. Thinking that someone must have forgotten something, she quickly turns around only to find Christen standing in the doorway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Christen says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, hey.” Tobin’s brain is short-circuiting at the sight of Christen in her clothes, and it’s a struggle to stay calm. “I wasn’t expecting you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I just figured I would stop by and say thank you again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re welcome. Again.” They both stand rooted to their respective spots, unmoving. Tobin can’t help but feel like there’s something more to Christen’s visit, especially with the way the other woman is looking at her feet and fidgeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I actually came to tell you—” Christen starts to blurt something out, but halfway through she’s interrupted by her phone ringing. “Shit. I should take this, can you just wait a minute?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tobin nods. And she does plan on waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just—the thought that Christen might have come here to confess, or talk about feelings, makes Tobin’s legs itch to run. Somehow, admitting feelings would make whatever is going on between them </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and solid. In Tobin’s experience, real things are a whole lot easier to fuck up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she doesn’t wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Christen walks into the church, she’s ready. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself, because she spent the entire drive over rehearsing a speech and preparing for every possible outcome. She’s prepared for rejection, for remaining friends, for Tobin returning her feelings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting interrupted by her ex, though, is not something she anticipated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up?” Christen greets Emily stiffly through the phone once she’s in a remote church hallway. She tries not to be angry at the other woman, since there’s no way she could have known that Tobin even exists, but it still feels a lot like the universe is laughing at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, about the books,” Emily starts, and Christen wants to scream because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course it’s only about the fucking books</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of course the moment she’s been waiting for for weeks was interrupted by </span>
  <em>
    <span>books</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She usually considers herself a bookworm, but right now she could not care less about whatever books Emily found. She tries to rush through the conversation without seeming too rude, until they have plans for Christen to pick up the books and she can finally hang up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when her phone is off, instead of making her way back to Tobin, Christen slumps against the nearest wall. Suddenly, without all the anticipation, doubts start to creep in and her plan falls apart at the seams. There’s still so much she doesn’t know about Tobin. She doesn’t know if the other woman is ready for something serious. Hell, Christen doesn’t even know if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> ready for something serious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It all seems like a mistake. One big, stupid, messy mistake. A mistake on par with saying “no” to what might have been her only shot at the life she wants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why, when Christen manages to push herself off the wall, she walks straight past the room Tobin was in and makes her way out of the church. Or maybe she’s just scared of opening herself up to get hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Either way, the result is the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t stop to let herself reconsider until she’s safely in her car, secluded from the rest of the world. Even then, she tries her best to ignore the fact that she ditched Tobin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she leaves the parking lot, though, her chest aches. And this time it’s not from nerves. No, this time it’s because Christen can’t shake the feeling that leaving might have been a bigger mistake than staying ever could be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The minute she’s out of the church, Tobin is fumbling to call Ashlyn. All her friends know that she’s sober, but Ash is the only other person in their group who’s actually sober, and right now Tobin needs someone who’s made some of the same mistakes she has. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, Ash picks up on the first ring. “Toby?” She asks immediately, sounding worried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you—I need you to meet me at AA.” Tobin cuts right to the chase, mostly because she doesn’t seem to have enough breath in her lungs to go through formalities.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t relapse, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as Tobin hates that it’s the first question she gets asked, it’s still kind of nice to know that she has a support system in place. “No, didn’t relapse. Just—can you meet me please?” She’s basically pleading at this point, breathless. Thankfully Ashlyn almost immediately agrees, hanging up and leaving Tobin with her thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is pretty much the last place Tobin wants to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She used to drink, when she was left alone to think. Now she paints. But when she can’t do either, she runs—both literally and figuratively. Tobin doesn’t stop until she’s made it to the town hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she arrives, she promptly bends over and tries to catch her breath. She would much rather be breathless this way than the way she is when she panics. This way, at least, she can control. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ashlyn pulls up in front of the building a few minutes later, running over to Tobin after she parks. “Hey, I’ve gotcha. It’s okay.” Her hand rubs Tobin’s back, and the small gesture is all it takes for Tobin to start crying. “Toby, what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath, searching for the words with tears still falling down her face. “I think I made a mistake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A Christen mistake,” Tobin replies, and Ash nods in understanding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, let’s get you inside and cleaned up a bit, and then we can talk about how you’re going to fix this mistake.” She lets Ash pull her up and into the building without protest. They make their way to the bathroom, where Ash coaxes her into splashing cold water on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Tobin looks in the mirror, she still sees the version of herself that made so many mistakes, all those years ago. But this time, she also sees the version of herself who has a chance to fix a mistake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no question which version she wants to be. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have no sense of the quality of anything i do so please tell me if this is good or terrible. also tell me if the summary is shit, i desperately need help. love y'all.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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